Life Doesn't Always Find A Way
by gotgoats
Summary: This story contains an ill-fated OC in the form of a baby. I was VERY depressed when writing this. Be warned, it IS a death fic. Don't read if you're not wanting to read a depression piece of fiction. Once again, be warned that it's depressing, it's a death fic, and I was depressed when writing it. Please, no flames. Thanks. WARNING! OC BABY DEATH FIC!


WARNING! CONTAINS THE DEATH OF AN INFANT! VERY SAD!

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or anything else but my dog, really.

###########

Tony grumbled as once again, he was headed over the side of a dumpster in search of evidence.

_Why can't it ever be bags of cleaned laundry, or maybe someone's kitchen trash can? No. It always has to be the gross, dingy, filled with maggots dumpster. Not only that, but it has to be on a day when I decide to wear nice shoes, and I forgot my shit-kickers in the trunk of my _other_ car. You know, you'd have thought I'd learn by now…_

He stepped on something and it rolled, causing him to nearly hit his knees. Tony groaned. Only he could nearly fall in a half-empty dumpster that gets emptied twice a week.

"Found something. Don't know what, but I'm gonna pull it out before I fall over it."

"Hand it over, Tony." McGee stood with a large evidence bag held out from his body. "Don't be such a baby about getting dirty."

"This coming from the man on the outside. I didn't hear you volunteer to hop in here."

"Why would I? Gibbs told you to search, and me to sketch this area."

"Actually, he told us to go, and said he didn't care who did what." Tony reached down, and with a grunt, pulled the offending piece of material out from under his feet. He looked at it, his horror growing by the moment.

"It can't be that bad, Tony." McGee rolled his eyes. "Just hand it over."

"GIBBS!" Tony's eyes were flown wide with panic, and he looked across the parking lot to where his team leader bent over, photographing something. The older man looked up. "NEED YOU AND DUCKY _NOW_!"

Tony scrambled over the side of the dumpster, the satchel held close to his chest as he moved. He ignored Tim's requests to help, or the comments about his clumsiness. Once his feet had landed, Tony shrugged off his jacket, one arm at a time before throwing it on the ground and falling to his knees beside it, the dirty bundle still cradled to his chest.

"Tony, what's…" Tim let out a gasp as Tony carefully pulled a tiny baby from the filthy bag.

The little one wasn't very old at all. His umbilical cord was cut, but hadn't been tied off properly, and fluid leaked from his belly. His skin was a ghastly blue, as if there was no blood-flow going anywhere, yet Tony could see the baby's tiny heart struggling to beat inside his sunken chest.

Gibbs was nearly to his side as Tony began performing CPR. The baby squirmed a bit, but made no sounds as he finally drew in a gasping breath, and exhaled with an almost musical wheeze.

Gibbs shouted to McGee to get a blanket out of the ME's van, all the while waving frantically to Ducky and Palmer as they hurried over. Tony's hands shook as he reached out to grasp the handkerchief Gibbs held out to him.

Ducky and Palmer reached them just as Gibbs was calling for the local EMT's. Tony lifted the newborn onto the stretcher the two ME's had pushed over between them, and Ducky began working to stabilize the baby the best he could.

After what seemed like an hour, but was in reality only minutes, an ambulance came hurtling around the corner, headed to the small group of investigators who were gathered close to the old ME.

Tony looked up, tears in his eyes as the first medic approached, his bag in hand.

"Status?"

"Infant boy." Tony's voice shook as much as his hands. "I was digging in the dumpster for evidence from a murder we're investigating, and stepped on him."

The paramedic stopped and stared at the trembling man for a moment. He'd heard of cases like this. But he'd never had to work one. With a look to the silver-haired man who was helping center the man who'd found the baby, he nodded. The younger man would be in need of a ride to the hospital, too. And probably a sedative.

#################

Tony stood by the small incubator, watching a baby that he'd found only an hour ago struggle for life.

The baby was ventilated, and the tiny IV's in his little arms and legs were frightening to look at. His umbilical cord had been cleaned, and was properly tied off. Hopefully, the antibiotics would be strong enough to keep the infection from the cord from killing him, without the medicine itself shutting down his systems.

Baby Doe, as they were calling him, seemed to be less than 2 hours old, and was at least 5 weeks premature. He was so tiny. He was only 17 inches long, and weighed a scant 3 pounds, 7 ounces. His little chest was concave, and the doctors thought he was suffering from Infant Respiratory Distress Syndrome, and while Tony wasn't sure what it meant, he was sure that it wasn't good.

There was no doubt that the baby's broken leg was a result of Tony stepping on him, and yet had he not rolled his foot, his next step would have been directly on the infant's head or chest. Tony turned and nearly gagged at the thought.

He almost left the room to pull himself together again, but the steady beating of machines pulled to him. How many times had he lain in a bed, just like this, knowing that _someone_ was by his side. How many times had that someone been his life-line? How many times would he have given up were it not for that presence?

Tony's feet carried him slowly toward the specialized crib holding the infant. He was so small. Tony looked up to the nurse who smiled.

"Put on these gloves, and you can touch him if you'd like."

"Not sure I should." Tony's voice shook. "I've already broken his leg."

"You're the one who found him?" Tony nodded wordlessly. "In that case, I'd not say that you broke his leg, I'd say you saved his life." With that, she handed him a pair of gloves. "Touch will do wonders for him now. Especially the touch of someone who cares." She shrugged. "I care, but you," Their eyes met, "I can feel the care you have radiating off of you. He needs that, not my caring. He needs yours."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep. I've seen it time and again." She shrugged. "Usually with parents, but babies respond to those who love them. I'm a nurse. I feel for him, and love him in a professional way. But he'll move on, and I'll not form a huge attachment to him. You, on the other hand, have already formed that. And THAT is what he needs." She led Tony to a room lined with lockers.

"Here's a gown. Put it over your clothes, and make sure that you don't take anything unsanitary close to him." She opened one of the lockers. "Put your keys and things in here if you want to, and toss the laundry into that container. Shoe covers are in that box." Tony nodded and started to gown up. "Go spend some time with that little guy. He needs it."

Tony walked into the baby's room and stood by the tiny incubator for a few minutes before he tentatively put his hand out and brushed his gloved fingers over Baby Doe's forehead.

"I'm so sorry you were left, Little Man." Tony shuddered. "I don't know how anyone could have done that to you. I'm so sorry."

The steady beeping of a heart monitor and the swoosh of a respirator were the only reply. Tony ran his finger down the baby's cheek, feeling an unexplainable relief when the tiny mouth quirked into a reflexive smile at the contact.

"I wish your mommy had come to me. Yes, I do." Tony drew in a deep breath. Some sorrows were too harsh to speak of. But perhaps this little guy needed to hear that there was love in the world.

"Gibbs and I, well, we wanted to adopt a little baby." Baby Doe moved his legs a bit as he "listened" to Tony. "We went to an organization that helps young women who don't want abortions, but don't want to raise their babies, either. It's a private adoption. And the young lady we were talking to was a pretty girl who agreed that if we paid all of the medical bills for her pregnancy, then we could adopt her baby."

Sheri, the nurse he'd spoken with earlier, stood in the hall, afraid to interrupt the strangely intimate moment happening. She listened as Tony took a deep breath, almost afraid of what he'd say next.

"We signed all of the papers, and everything seemed to be just fine. But then, she changed her mind." Tony sighed again, putting his finger into the baby's hand. His eyes filled as the tiny hand clutched his fingertip. He knew it was only a reflexive action, but it felt so…right.

"She decided that we couldn't have her little boy. No, we couldn't. Someone told her that since we're two men, that we'd hurt him. And she believed them. So we couldn't have him." The baby moved his head, as if he was agreeing that it was hurtful.

"He has a good, happy home, though. Yes, he does." Tony ran his finger down Baby Doe's cheek once more. "She decided he would be adopted by another couple." He lowered his voice, as if imparting some great wisdom. "They're straight, so they're safe. But Gibbs and I? We back-grounded them. We know they're good people. He may not have been our baby yet, but we loved him already. And if they weren't good, we'd have fought. Yes, we would have." He straightened up, clearing his throat. "But we decided that it wasn't worth making the first few months of his little life hell as we fought in court. It was in his best interest to step aside. So we did. But it hurt. Yep. It hurt like hell."

Sheri watched as Tony put his finger back in Baby Doe's hand before she broke the moment. She'd seen the baby's charts, and knew that no matter what, he was in for a hard time. Perhaps this man and his life-partner were the answers to the baby's needs.

Her eyes had been trained on the scene before her, so she was caught off guard when another man entered the room. He didn't come all the way in, but he stood just inside the door.

"Tony?" The man's gruff voice gave away the emotion his face hid.

"Gibbs?" Tony's voice shook. "He's…"

"He's gonna be ok, Tone. Come out here, though. Need to talk to you. And like Abby says, bad energy's bad for him."

"What's going on?" Sheri watched as Tony struggled to come back into work mode.

"Found his mother."

Tony's eyes narrowed as he stalked out of the room, tearing the gloves from his hands as he moved.

"What the hell is her excuse?" His voice oozed venom as he spoke quietly, not wanting his angry words to find their way to the baby.

"She's a runaway kid." Gibbs ran his hands down his face. "Mom married a guy the girl didn't trust. Turns out the girl was right. As soon as her mom was off to work, her step-dad would start in on her. Tried talking to her mom, and when that didn't work, she ran away."

"Let me guess, didn't know she was pregnant?" Tony scoffed at the story Gibbs was telling.

"Hey!" Jethro reached out and slapped Tony firmly upside the head. "Found her mom." Tony's eyes widened. "After her kid ran off, she started checking around, and found out that her new hubby was a registered child molester. Story checks out. Right down to the now-apologetic mother."

"So what's gonna happen to him?" Tony tilted his head as he spoke.

"The girl doesn't want him, and the mom agrees. As soon as they sign the papers, he belongs to the state."

"Gibbs…"

"I know, Tony." The men shared a look, as if arguing silently. Gibbs finally sighed. "He's gonna have health problems, Tony. I talked to Ducky, and his chances aren't good."

"All the more reason to make his life a little better, right? He'll have a home, and not a hospital?"

"What about when he goes, Tony? Are you gonna feel the same way then?" Tony bit his lip. "I've lost one already, Tony. I'm not sure I'm willing to adopt one we know we'll end up…"

"Gibbs." The word was spoken with finality, as if it alone carried the other man's entire intent. Sheri watched surreptitiously from where she was changing the baby's feeding tube, fascinated by the men's ability to communicate. She saw that words were only a small part of their conversation.

The silver haired man blew out a breath and nodded, his chin coming to rest on his chest.

"I know. If he's with us, he'll have love."

"Yeah."

"You sure?" Another nod. "Can I think about it?"

"Yeah. Just not for too long, ok? Even if he's only with us a month, it'll be good."

"It'll hurt like hell, Tony. A lot worse than…"

"Yeah. I know." Gibbs nodded. "But I know something that will hurt even more." A cocked eyebrow was Gibbs' only response. "Wondering if we could have changed his life at all."

#############

Gibbs and Tony stepped out of the investigation and charging of the young mother. Even though her baby had been conceived in rape, she was still guilty of child endangerment, child abandonment, and attempted murder, along with a slew of other lesser charges.

Gibbs focused on their murder investigation, while Tony decided to irritate Director Vance by taking a week off. Vance understood, but he wished that the man hadn't gotten so attached to the little baby. He knew the pain of having a child in an investigation die, but he couldn't help but have concern for his agents. This could only end badly, and he feared that if it ended too badly, that his MCRT would falter, as well.

Tony, for his part, left all of those worries in the locker where he stashed anything that would possibly carry germs as he gowned up to go see "his" baby.

"Hey, little man." Tony smiled down at the boy as he slid his hands into the sides of the incubator. "I hear you had a rough night. I'm sorry I wasn't here. Had to go home." Today, there was no response as he stroked the baby's cheek. "Yeah, I did. Jethro wanted to have a meal together, and then we had to talk about you some more. Yes, we did."

He kept his voice light as his heart filled with worry. He'd been informed when he arrived of Baby Doe's latest bout with IRDS. He'd nearly died during the night, and no one had been called, save for a social worker who simply made a note regarding the "incident". Tony's heart ached with that knowledge.

"You have a social worker, did you know that?" Tony was looking for anything to say. "Yes, you do. She cares. She really does. But she's got so many other children that she's looking out for, too. She got called, and she took down the notes, in case anyone asked questions later, but she didn't call me. I don't think she got the message that I wanted to be called if something happened. But we'll forgive her, won't we? Yes, we will. Because it was really late at night, and she wasn't at the office, and maybe she didn't get the note. Uh-huh. But I'll have to call her today and see if I can't get that changed."

He rambled on for the next hour, saying anything that came to his mind as he used a single finger to stroke along Baby Doe's arms and legs.

"You know, I can't keep calling you Baby Doe. No, I can't. You need a name. Yep, you do. I'm not really allowed to name you, but how about we call you Nick? Do you like that? You can be Nick. Short for Nickname. Does that sound good?"

There was finally a response, and Tony's heart soared. Yes, it was the simple curling of a toe as he stroked the baby's foot, but it was something.

############

Gibbs sat at his desk going over the report Tim turned in the day before. He'd already called Social Services, and with the help of the Legal Department, had already sent a lawyer with papers the young mother to sign Baby Doe over to them. He just wanted to make sure that one paper was signed before he called Tony.

The baby's social worker had been relatively helpful. She'd not known exactly which baby he was talking about at first, which had infuriated the silver-haired agent, and then he found out she had 500 children to keep track of. Considering she could even find his case file that day, she earned major marks in his book.

"_Jethro, he shouldn't be alone."_

"_I know." Gibbs sighed._

"_And you know that if we don't take him, no one else will. People want perfect babies."_

"_I know." He took a swig of his coffee, letting his eyes settle on a point across the kitchen where they stood. "I know you're attached to him, and I know we have it in our power to make his life, no matter how long or short, better. Happier." _

"_But?"_

"_But I'm scared, Tones. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to lose another child." Tony nodded, understanding. It wasn't until they were in bed that Gibbs restarted the conversation._

"_We have the crib I made for the other one."_

"_Yeah, we do."_

"_And I'm sure we could get whatever medical equipment we need, and Ducky will help, I'm sure."_

"_Are you saying what I think you're saying?"_

"_I'm saying that I don't know if I'm strong enough to lose another child, but I know I'm not weak enough to let him never know love."_

His phone rang. "Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs, this is Paul Jorgenson from legal. I just wanted to let you know the papers are signed, stating that you are now the baby's legal guardian. Social services was at the hospital, and were helpful. I'm submitting the rest of the forms to them, and Staci, your social worker, will be at your house tonight for a walk-through as a formality. Your previous walk-through from your previous adoption is still on record, and shows no problems, so this should just be a formality."

"Thanks, Paul."

Gibbs sighed and dialed his phone, hoping that Tony had his in his pocket. Things were going a lot faster than he'd anticipated. Guess even "the system" didn't like leaving babies in this situation.

##############

"I need to step outside and make some calls, Nick. Yes, I do." Tony spoke softly, not caring if he sounded silly or not. "But I don't want to leave you. Nope. Not at all. I want to be here for you all the time. Every single day. And I think Gibbs will be here tonight, too. He said he was going to come after work."

He watched as "Nick" curled his fingers a bit, as if responding. Tony's heart soared. The more he'd talked and touched, the more his little boy had moved. Nurses had been in and out all morning, giving the man encouraging smiles and little reports of progress, such as "his heart's steady, and his breathing has remained steady." He soaked all of that up, hoping that his presence was helping, even if only a little.

After a few more minutes of explaining his need to move a few feet away, so that he could pull his "yucky, germy" phone out of his pocket and then from the sealed bag he carried it in, Tony finally made his way into the hall.

Tony sighed when he looked at his phone. Three missed calls in the last six minutes.

"Ten guesses that my ass is grass." He flipped his phone open, hit speed dial one, and waited.

"Tony!" Gibbs' voice was nearly frantic. "What happened? You didn't answer your phone. Is the baby ok? Where were you? I thought we agreed that you'd keep it on…"

"Hey!" Tony spoke slightly louder than he really wanted to, just for that word. "I didn't hear it ring. Apparently, this bag is sound proof."

"But everything's ok?"

"Yeah, he's more responsive than he was this morning. He had some trouble during the night, but he's good now."

"What happened?"

"He had another IRDS attack."

"Shit." Gibbs wiped his hand over his mouth.

"He's gonna be ok, Gibbs. Really. He's responding when I touch him and it's like he hears me." He listened to Gibbs seeming to get himself back under control. "What's up?"

"Well, legal went over to the hospital, and they got the mother to sign him over to us. Her mom seconded the decision, and she was witness to the fact that she gave the baby up willingly. Yes, the state's taking him over, but with the papers, we can take him home, providing we pass a house inspection. I've already talked to his social worker this morning…"

"You've been busy." Tony grinned as he looked back in to the baby's room.

"Needed doing. I'm here. You're there. Focus on him, ok?"

"Will do. I'll check my phone more often, ok?"

"Ok. Love you. Sorry I…"

"Don't worry about it." Tony smiled. "I'm glad you're so concerned. I told him you'd be by after work. You still coming?"

"Unless we have a case, I'm coming as soon as I can."

"We'll be waiting."

"Sounds good. Love you." Gibbs quirked a grin before he spoke again. "Blow him a kiss for me, ok?"

"You got it. Softie." Tony hung up before Gibbs could respond.

##########

Their home inspection went off without a hitch. Gibbs had already installed a state-of-the-art monitor system, owing to his phobia of losing another child. The system worked fine, and with the crib that was well within regulations, the non-outgassing paint that had been used to decorate the room, and having Ducky as a personal physician who had already agreed to be on call 24/7, they were cleared to bring little "Nick" home.

The baby boy still had no official name, but they would be naming him before his release from the hospital. Both Gibbs and Tony liked the name of Nick, and agreed that he'd have that for his first name. His second was debated, but not strenuously.

By the time they sat down to their first lesson for Infant CPR, they'd settled on the name of Nicholas Gideon Gibbs.

The men sat down at their table, an array of pamphlets and manuals laid out before them. There were only two other couples in the class, and all of them looked terrified. Their instructor entered and smiled benignly at the group.

"Good evening. Thank you for coming. I'm going to do my best to teach you what you need to know to help your child through a life-threatening moment." Tony nearly rolled his eyes. What a way to inspire confidence.

They spent the next four hours learning about obstructed airways, infant heart-attacks, SIDS, and IRDS. This last one was of special interest to the new fathers, and they asked so many questions that the instructor finally told them to write them down for after class, so the others could move on to the "physical" portion of the class.

"Now, folks, we need to remember that a baby's lungs hold only a little bit of air." She looked pointedly at each of them. "Fill your cheeks, but NOT your lungs. If you do that…" She took a deep breath and blew into the doll's mouth that she held. The class heard a pop, and she opened the chest of the doll. "This is what will happen."

One of the women nearly screamed, and Gibbs looked ill.

"It's time for us to practice breathing for the babies." She replaced the balloons in her own doll. She then showed them how to do it properly, and moved from table to table, ensuring that every one of them knew exactly how to breathe.

When they had practiced until they felt comfortable and confident, she added a new element. The beep of a heart monitor turned into a steady screech as she had them all practice more.

"This is what you'll hear if your baby stops breathing, folks. This is what you'll need to be prepared for. Yes, turn off the screech. But, did you feel your adrenaline rush at that sound? We're going to practice more, because you need to be able to keep calm. Let's do this again, shall we?"

That night, as Gibbs lay in bed, he thought of his husband and their tiny son. Tony was at the hospital with Nick, where he should be. Gibbs knew he needed to sleep. He needed to be at the top of his game for the next day. With a sigh, he rose and dressed once more.

Tony was sleeping peacefully in a surprisingly comfortable recliner with Nick cuddled against his chest. The baby had come off of the respirator earlier that day, and so long as he was still attached to the monitors, and Tony was as germ-free as possible, they could cuddle up.

Gibbs had held Nick for a while earlier that evening, when they'd gone back to his room after their CPR class. It was only his third time to the baby's hospital room, and he found he regretted it. Yes, he was busy, and yes, he'd spent his last two days preparing to take Nick home, but it was no excuse. Not in Gibbs' mind, anyway.

Jethro stopped at the door and smiled. Nick had snuggled down, his little head just beneath Tony's chin. One of his hands had a firm grip on some of Tony's chest hair, and the other was balled up by his head, as if keeping a bad dream at bay. Tony, on his part, had his head cocked to the side, his mouth slightly open, as he snored softly.

As if sensing he was wanted, Nick squirmed a bit, letting Gibbs know he was awake. Or trying to be, at least. The older man smirked and walked over to his family.

"Hey, Little Man." He plucked Nick carefully from Tony's arms. "You filling your diaper, huh?" A gassy bubble that smelled distinctly of formula was Nick's only reply. He screwed up his tiny face, letting his displeasure at the nastiness he was now sitting in show.

"Don't worry, Poppy will get you fixed up. Yep, I will." Gibbs carried the baby over to the nurse call button. He knew how to change a diaper, that wasn't the problem. The issue was all of the wires and…stuff. He wasn't about to cause any harm to his little guy by messing anything up.

"Can I help you?" Sheri stood in the door, smiling. She'd swapped shifts with another nurse, and was happy to be caring for the little baby now held so gently by his new daddy.

"Yeah. He needs a new diaper, and I'm not sure how to do it." Gibbs blushed. "Well, I've changed diapers before, but not with…"

"Wires attached?"

"Yeah." Tony woke to the sound of quiet chatter as Sheri showed Gibbs how to change Nick's diaper without disconnecting or shorting out any of the wires.

"Hey." Tony took the four steps required to stand at his husband's side. "Didn't you go home?"

"Yep." Gibbs leaned in and brushed his lips against Tony's. "Couldn't sleep. Decided to come back, spend some time with my boys."

"Good. We missed you, too." Tony grinned down at Nick, who was rolling his head side to side with uncoordinated shakes. "Didn't we, Nick? Yes, we did, huh?" The baby grinned, and Gibbs laughed quietly as the smile turned into a poof of gas out the other end.

"I'd say you are one lucky little boy, Nick." Sheri finished diapering the baby. "You already have your daddies wrapped around your tiny little pinky, don't you? I'll bet you have them buying you Santa outfits for Christmas by tomorrow."

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head. "No Santa outfit." At Tony's crestfallen expression, Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Abby already got him an elf outfit. She wants to have his first Christmas pictures with the two of them dressed up. You know, her in her Mrs. Clause outfit, and him in his little elf suit."

"You didn't tell me that!" Tony looked bemused. "How'd she manage to get you to agree?"

"I can't say no to Abby, you know that." Tony chuckled as he took their son from Sheri.

"Your Poppy is a goof, you know that? He acts all big and bad, and people think he is, but we know the truth, huh?"

Nick squirmed as he settled against his daddy's chest. Gibbs and Tony quietly talked about Nick's changing and healthier coloration. He wasn't the grayish blue he'd been the first three days, and was taking on a more bronzed skin tone.

"He's gonna be a heart-breaker." Gibbs cupped the baby's head in his hand, stroking his soft black fuzz.

"Sure is." Tony sighed as he sat down once more.

"Gonna hog him all night?" Gibbs playfully grumped as he watched Tony and Nick getting comfortable.

"Yep. Gonna hog him for the next 18 years or so, just so you know."

"Yeah. I'll let you get away with it now, but you're on notice, Daddy."

"Anything you say, Poppy." At that moment, one of Nick's alarms started to beep.

Tony and Gibbs looked on with concern their son's color started to change from his healthy color to a grayish hue. His breaths transitioned from his calm, sleepy ones, to gasps that seemed to grow shorter with each gasp.

Gibbs pressed the nurse call button seconds before running into the hall, frantically trying to flag down one of the nurses already headed for their room.

Tony found himself pushed out into the hall with Gibbs as the nurses and doctor who arrived moments after them worked to save their son.

Tony reached for Gibbs hand, relieved when the other man pulled him close, wrapping him in an almost painful hug for a moment. This couldn't be happening. Nick was better, wasn't he? He was progressing. The doctors thought he was ready to breathe on his own. And this wasn't part of the plan.

They heard quick orders volleyed from one medical professional to another. A nurse raced past them, pushing a cart. Tony could feel Gibbs starting to shake.

"It's gonna be ok, Jethro." Tony felt steel creeping into his emotions from somewhere. He was far from cold, but he suddenly knew that no matter what happened, they were going to make it. One of them needed to be strong, and now it was his turn.

"We've not even gotten to have him home, Tony." Gibbs gasped out a sob as his hands clutched Tony's shirt tightly. "I can't lose him, Tony." He raised his silver head, begging Tony to tell him that it was all a bad dream.

"We're not gonna lose him, Jethro." Tony spoke with far more confidence than he felt. "There's no way that he survived all of the crap of his birth to die now." Tony shook his head fiercely. "Nope. He's gonna live. I know it."

"Gotta call Ducky." Gibbs suddenly pulled away. "He'll be able to explain…"

"Gibbs?" Tony sounded sad for a moment, and Jethro stopped dialing. "Wait until they're done, ok? They're working. He's sleeping, and there's no use waking him up…"

"Yes, there is, dammit!" Jethro got right into Tony's face. "You believe he's gonna make it, right?" Tony nodded. "Then I want Duck here to explain all of the medical jargon when they're done."

Tony blew out a breath and nodded. If calling Ducky would give his husband the hope he needed, he'd not argue any further.

###################

Ducky regarded the two men before him as they waited for the doctor to make his appearance. Tony looked like he was worried yet hopeful, while Gibbs looked simply terrified. The possibility that they would lose the baby before they really had a chance to know him must have reawakened latent fears.

The door opened, and Dr. Lombard, the pediatrician they'd met the day before entered.

"Doc!" Gibbs was out of his chair, heading across the room before the man was even through the threshold. "What happened?"

"Please, Mr. Gibbs, have a seat." Ducky drew in a breath at those words. In his profession, he knew that having a parent sit usually meant that something bad was in the coming.

Once Gibbs was seated, Tony took his hand, and the men looked from one doctor to the other.

"Well, somebody say something!" He finally erupted, and Gibbs squeezed his hand, as if to reassure them both.

"We have Baby…"

"Nick." The doctor nodded.

"We have Nick stabilized for the moment." He looked from one man to the other. He hated conversations like these. "He had another bout with IRDS, and I'm afraid he took quite a beating. We're still running tests, so I don't want to paint a bleaker picture than I should, but I do need to inform you that while his blood pressure has dropped significantly, his heart rate is increasing."

Tears pooled in Gibbs' eyes, and he squeezed Tony's hand, afraid to look over to see if his husband was tearing, as well.

"He's got what we would consider a weak suck at the moment, and his reflexes aren't responding as they should."

"What does all that mean, doctor?"

"We're still running tests, so I hesitate to say for sure, but please know that we're doing everything we can."

"They are running several tests, Jethro and Anthony. The best thing now if to be patient and let them do their jobs. I know this is hard, but believe me, they are indeed doing all that they can." Ducky went on to explain. "They are doing the tests in his room. He's got a very weak suck, his coloring is off, his blood pressure is extremely low, yet his heart is beating fast, and his reflexes, while slow before, are nearly non-existent now."

"So he's dying?" Tony's breath caught.

"Now, now, dear boy, I didn't say that." Ducky gave both men sympathetic glances. "We're going to go back in with him, and I'll keep you informed, so that Dr. Lombard can stay working with him."

With that, the two professionals returned to the infant's room, leaving two heart-broken fathers waiting. Simply waiting.

Gibbs paced the five steps the room allowed, turned on his heel, and paced the five steps back. Tony sat with his hands clasped behind his head, his eyes closed, his lips moving in the silent motions of a litany long forgotten. He hoped that he'd not totally forgotten the rosary. He wasn't religious, but at times like this, he dared to hope.

It seemed like hours before Ducky returned to their side. The man's face was drawn, yet a glimmer of hope was lighting his face. Still, Gibbs and Tony felt fear engulf them once more.

"Duck?" Gibbs stood still, his shoulders back, as if he were standing at attention.

"He's not responding to stimuli, I'm afraid." Ducky sighed and sat down, motioning for them to join him at the small table once more. "He's on a ventilator, and with the aid of life support, he's still with us."

"But?" Tony didn't try to hide his tears.

"But," Ducky sighed. "They're going to wait a few hours and do a transcranial Doppler. They'll know then just how bad the damage is."

"What's the worst, Duck?" Gibbs' stomach churned, even as he asked the question.

"The worst is possible brain-death, gentlemen." He took each of their hands. "I'm so sorry."

#############

Another week passed, and Gibbs and Tony made the decision to take their little boy home. As far as the doctors were concerned, there wasn't anything more they could do. The little one was living on borrowed time and a little luck.

Gibbs turned in the necessary paperwork for both he and Tony to take paternity leave for the next three months, which is what they were both allowed by the Family Medical Leave Act.

Nick wasn't sure what had changed, but something wonderful had happened. He wasn't under bright lights, and while he still had things stuck to him, and there were beeps and blips, the noises around him were quieter. Only two people ever picked him up anymore.

One was the man he knew best. He smelled nice, and his chest was comfortable. Nick could feel his chest move and reverberate as the man sang, and it settled his tiny nerves. The other man was even more gentle, which was odd, considering his hands were so much rougher. He smelled good, too, but sometimes he smelled of something funny, like the thing he slept in at night.

Nick liked where he was now. He was never alone, and he could feel the love of the two men who took care of him. And sometimes, he had visitors.

He had an angel, and sometimes, his angel brought her mommy with her. Her name was Kelly, and he could see her. He couldn't see his Daddies. That's what Kelly called them.

"Your Daddies love you, Nick." Kelly would kiss his cheek when he hurt, and he'd roll his head to her. He'd feel a hand resting on his side, and know that it was one of his Daddies. He liked having his angel and his Daddies.

He especially liked the days when his Papa held him. He was so gentle, and so sure. Sometimes Daddy wasn't quite as comfortable, like he was afraid of hurting him. Nick wondered if Papa could teach Daddy to hold him and rock him.

Papa would sing, and his voice was quiet. He couldn't hear the words, as his ears really didn't work anymore. But he could feel. And he liked the feeling.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been here with just the two of them, but it felt like a long time. It was a long, good time. His angel Kelly told him all about how her Daddy, his Papa, used to sing to her, and how he loved her just like he loved Nick. He liked her stories.

Sometimes he hurt so bad. There were days when all he could do was cry, because he hurt, and he couldn't tell anyone what was wrong. But on those days, he never had to worry about not being held or comforted.

It was one of those days when he lay snuggled into his Papa's chest. He was hurting. He wanted the pain to go away. His Papa's hand patted him gently, and he felt some relief.

That's when he noticed he had company again. Kelly stood off to the side, waving to him. He tried to smile, but he hurt too much. Her mommy, who had only come to sit with him before, but hadn't talked, ran a hand down his cheek.

"I'm sorry you hurt so bad, Baby." Nick tried to nod. "Do you know why I'm here today?" Nick blinked. He didn't know.

"Today's a special day, Nick. Today's a day when you get to choose." She ran another finger down his cheek. "You can choose to come with me today, and play with Kelly. Your eyes will work, just like they do when we're here, and you'll be able to walk, just like she and I do. Or, you can choose to stay a little while longer."

He blinked at her. _A little while longer?_ He loved it here with his Daddy and Papa.

"I'm sorry, Baby, but you can't stay here for years and years, Sweetie. Your body just won't let you."

He sighed, and felt Papa rub his hand over his back gently. He'd miss this. Did he want to leave it?

"Come on, Nick." Kelly stood by him, looking unsure, even as he spoke. "We'll take care of you."

Nick wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but he could feel something happening inside. His heart hurt. His lungs didn't want to breathe. It was like a long time ago when he was in that place with the shining lights. He didn't want to feel that again.

"You can choose to stay here a little longer, Little Man, and you'll survive the pain this time, or you can come now." Shannon kissed his cheek. "If you want to come, lift your hand, ok?"

Nick shuddered a sob, and Gibbs sat up straighter, looking to the monitors that started to blink, not yet sounding alarms of distress. He dialed Ducky, asking the elderly ME to hurry over. Gibbs hung up as soon as the first alarm went off. Tony was already in the door, calling for an ambulance.

Memorizing the feeling of his Papa's chest, Nick slumped forward, burying his head in the man's neck. He mewled in pain, and reached out a tiny hand at the same time.

His body went limp, and Gibbs looked down at his tiny son in horror. The monitor keeping track of his little heart began to screech its warning, and Gibbs sank to his knees, starting CPR on the little body he held. Tears ran down his face as he pressed with his fingers and puffed with cheeks-full of breaths.

Paramedics arrived and took over. Gibbs and Tony stood off to the side, watching helplessly. Beside them, unseen, Shannon stood with Nick in her arms, Kelly at their side.

"They'll be ok, Sweetie." Nick cried, reaching out for his Papa and Daddy. He felt so good, but he missed them so badly already. Nick felt peace wash over him as his Papa and Daddy faded away. He was in the happy place Kelly talked about living in, and he soon forgot the fears and pain of his last life. He still missed Papa and Daddy, yet their memory was bathed in joy.

############

"Did we do the right thing?" Tony sat on the edge of their bed that night, his head in his hands. "Did we…"

"We helped him live a happy life, as short as it was, Tony." Gibbs kissed his shoulder. "We knew he wasn't going to make it, Tony, and we knew this day would come. It's just quicker than we expected."

"Yeah, which makes me wonder if we messed up."

"He was loved, Tony." Gibbs sighed. "He'd not have been loved if he was in a hospital all that time."

"Two months, Jethro." A sob caught in Tony's throat. "Two months was all we got."

Jethro pulled his husband to his side, letting their tears mingle with one another's. The night was long, and seemed to be never-ending. They talked about things they'd avoided before. They talked about the color of Nick's casket. They talked about what to bury him in. He'd only worn sleepers. Should they bury him in the sleeper he seemed to find the most comfortable, or should they get him a little suit?

Three days later, they stood at the head of a tiny powder blue casket. Their little one looked as if he was sleeping. He had his favorite blanket by his side, and he was dressed in his most comfy sleeper. It was the one that he always seemed to like the best.

One by one, their family and friends passed, offering their condolences. A eulogy was spoken regarding the preciousness of life, and the two fathers' wept softly. They stayed at the cemetery long after the others left, watching as the casket was lowered into the ground and covered. They walked forward and placed a small bouquet of forget-me-not's and baby's breath on the little mound.

"Sleep well, Son." Gibbs blew a little kiss down to him, and Tony took his hand.

"Come on, Jethro. Let's go."

The house seemed quiet.

Their son had never spoken a word, and even his tears were usually silent. Yet somehow, he'd made their house, their home, full.

The next few weeks were a confusion of hits and misses with communication and their relationship. They argued over dozens of little things, presented a united front on some big decisions, and couldn't seem to make up their minds about what they wanted on others. Four months after their son passed, Gibbs expected Tony to call it quits. He'd have not blamed the younger man. For all of their trying for normal, they had failed.

Gibbs picked up his sanding block and put it to the boat he'd started the week after Nick had died. He'd needed something to do, and this was where he hid. He hid in what he knew was a failed attempt to salvage his marriage. He heard the footsteps on the stairs and didn't want to look up. He couldn't take another set of divorce papers, no matter how much he deserved them.

"We can't keep doing this, Gibbs." Tony sat down on the bottom step. "I can't, at least."

"What should we do, then?" Gibbs looked up, surprised that Tony wasn't yelling.

"I don't know." Tony shrugged. "I love you. That's not changed. But I don't know how you feel." Tony stood and stepped down the last step. He began to pace on the floor. "It's like I want to talk to you, but I don't know how. I feel like I lost you, but you're here with me, every day." He stopped and turned tortured eyes to his husband. "I miss you."

"Oh, God, Tony." Gibbs dropped his sanding block and crossed the floor. "I'm so sorry." He took Tony into his arms. "I'm so sorry." The two men clung to one another and wept, shedding tears they'd tried to hide from one another for the past several months.

Once their tears had dried, they separated a bit, still needing to lean on one another for strength, as they both seemed to be void of it.

Gibbs leaned forward and pressed his lips to Tony's.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry, Tony." He lowered his eyes for a moment. "I'm not sure how to fix it, but I want to."

Tony smiled. Not one of the empty smiles he'd shown the world for the past while, but one of his real smiles, the kind that lit up a room.

"I know a place to start." He nipped at Gibbs' lower lip. "It'll not solve anything, but it'll be some fun we've not had in a while." Jethro smiled and allowed himself to be led upstairs. Upstairs towards his love and to a future filled with forgiveness and hope.

##########

Three days later found them arguing over another stupid thing. Tony wanted to go out, and Gibbs wanted to stay in. The younger man finally threw his hands in the air and turned away.

"What do you want, Jethro?" He sounded tired, resigned.

"I want to order dinner in, or cook something. Is it that hard to understand?"

"No." Tony's shoulder's dropped. "What do you want to do about us? We can't even talk without fighting. Sure, we've had some great sex in the last couple of days. But that's it. We don't talk. We fight." His voice broke. "I can't live like this. I won't." He squared off with the older man. "So either we get help, or we're done."

"Giving me an ultimatum because we can't agree on dinner?" Gibbs scoffed.

"NO! DAMMIT!" Tony shouted as he stomped from the room. "An ultimatum because we can't live like this, and I really don't want a divorce, asshole. But I guess you do."

Gibbs stood staring after his husband. He drew in a deep breath before running shaking hands down his face. Moments later, he trudged up the stairs and stood in the doorway, watching as his husband threw clothes into an overnight bag.

"I don't want a divorce." Gibbs voice barely reached Tony's ears.

The younger man stopped and leaned against the bed, his palms holding his weight. He looked at Jethro, and then back to the bag before him.

"What do you want?"

"I want you here." Gibbs swallowed hard. "But you know I'm a bastard…" Tony cut him off.

"That's no excuse!" Tony zipped the bag up. "Do you think I'm not having a hard time? Do you think I don't miss Nick? Do you think I haven't struggled with what to do or say? I don't even know what to say to you anymore, Jethro. It seems like everything is a fight. Even good morning gets you pissed sometimes." He stood up and faced off with the older man. "I'm going to a hotel for tonight. If you want to talk, and I do mean talk, then call me. If not, I'll be home in a few days."

"What about…"

"Work? I'm calling Vance and asking to use the last of my personal days."

Gibbs nodded and moved aside, letting Tony by. He watched sadly as the younger man walked down the stairs and out of the front door. He wondered if this was how Tony would exit his life. The door slammed shut, and he headed to the basement.

An hour later, he swore loudly and reached for his phone. He dialed and was relieved when Tony answered.

"Where are you?"

"So you can yell at me more?"

"No." Gibbs sounded sullen. "I want to sort this out."

"Are you ready to admit that you've been an asshole?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks." Tony breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm just down the road at the Days Inn."

"Really? You hate that place."

"I was hoping I'd not be here long."

"Give me a few minutes, and I'll be there. What room?"

#########

"I just don't know what to say or do, Tony." Gibbs paced the room. "I was holding him when he died."

"I know." Tony stood and stopped his husband's trip across the room. "I know you were holding him. I was there, remember?" Gibbs just nodded.

"I feel like I'm broken inside, and I don't know how to fix it."

"Talking may help."

"I hate shrinks."

"Which do you hate more? The thought of talking to a shrink, or the thought of losing me?"

"I'm not going to lose you." Gibbs took Tony's face in his hands.

"Then we need to talk to someone." Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs. "I don't want to lose you, either."

"Got any ideas?" Gibbs smirked when Tony backed up and pulled a sheet of paper from his wallet.

"Yes, I do, in fact. This, my love, is a list of marriage and grief counselors. Some of them even do both."

###########

A year passed, in which their marriage grew stronger than it had ever been before. They communicated better, and learned to not hide from one another when they weren't sure of their way. Gibbs would never admit it, but he was glad that Tony had forced him to go through therapy.

They had worked through so many issues, starting with Nick's death, that both men felt like they were different people. Some couples grew apart, and they'd started down that way. However, with the guidance of their marriage counselor, they had grown closer together.

When Tony first mentioned his desire for another child, Gibbs had angrily resisted. However, as the months went by, he found the idea of a little boy or girl sharing their lives began to seem sweeter and sweeter. He finally brought the subject up in their weekly session, and Tony beamed with joy. Both knew that they weren't ready for that step just yet, but they were ready to start working toward it.

"I don't want a baby, Tony." Gibbs swallowed hard. "I can't do that again. I want an older kid. Boy or girl, I really don't care."

"I think it'd be great to adopt a kid who's old enough to tell us what he or she wants." Tony leaned over and kissed his husband. "But let's get ourselves sorted all the way first, right?" Gibbs nodded.

###########

On the day they brought their new addition home, they sat with him for hours up in the same nursery they had prepared and loved Nick in. They knew their new son, Jayme, would never walk. His legs weren't fully formed, and his hands were going to require therapy to be usable as he grew.

But they had learned something from the short time Nick had visited them. They had learned the value of life, no matter how short, or hard, or painful it may be. Every little one needed a loving home, and this boy had been in foster care for three years already.

He'd been in and out of hospitals, had been shuffled from home to home, and was now where he could grow up and be happy. The four year old was small for his age, and he wasn't talking yet, but that was fine with his new fathers'.

His wide brown eyes looked around the room that was now his with wonder.

"This is your room, Jayme." Tony picked the boy up and carried him over to the window. "See that tree out there?" Jayme nodded slowly. "Well, this summer, we're gonna get a swing out there so you can play. Does that sound good?" The boy wiggled in excitement. Gibbs chuckled.

"Gonna have a hard time keeping up with you, aren't we?" He pinched Jayme's cheek gently. "Gonna have to teach you to use that cool chair we got you first, huh? No more scooting on the floor. No sir." He grinned at his son. "We're gonna have you riding in style in no time."

#############

The next 16 years passed, and even with setbacks from health issues and learning disabilities, Jethro and Tony sat in the stands as they watched their son, their miracle, wheel himself across the stage to accept his high school diploma. He looked around for his fathers, and finally seeing them, waved broadly, his smile as brilliant as Tony's ever was.

No one cared that the young man was breaking the age-old tradition of being somber and serious about accepting his accolades. His classmates and teachers knew him well, knew the struggles he'd faced, and knew how determined he'd been to stay the course.

Jayme DiNozzo-Gibbs knew he was lucky. He'd heard about his younger-yet-older brother, and how his father's had nearly lost their marriage following his death. He'd ask questions time and again as to why they chose him, and both men always had the same answer: He had smiled.


End file.
